


Every Dog Has His Day

by YeahScience



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2016 Stanley Cup Finals, Alternate Universe - Dogs, Crack, Dog - Freeform, Supernatural - Freeform, dog!EVERYBODY, dog!Malkin, dog!fleury, dog!kessel, dog!letang, dog!murray, dog!sidney
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-10 16:33:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6995941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YeahScience/pseuds/YeahScience
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After winning the Eastern Conference Championship, the Penguins live it up with a night on the town. However, the next morning, Sidney Crosby wakes up as a dog. </p><p>This mysterious "curse" makes its way through the team, who have to find a way to cure their canine companions before the Cup finals start on Monday!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Sidney Collie

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! Thanks for clickin' on my fic!
> 
> I work at a kennel, so I spend most of my time with dogs. And the other day I saw a dog that, for reasons unknown, simply reminded me of Sidney Crosby. The idea made me laugh, and I wrote this very small prologue based off of it. 
> 
> Right now, I'm not sure if I'll continue. I have a bunch of ideas for this story and it'll probably get really long. But, being the egomaniac that I am, I'll only put the time and effort into writing them down if I know they'll be read. 
> 
> So, if you'd like me to post the next chapter of the work, please leave a comment or drop me a message. Thanks for the support, and LET'S GO PENS!

It was the “morning after,” and Sidney Crosby was feeling rough. 

Last night, the guys had gone out drinking to celebrate their winning of the Prince of Wales trophy. Hell, it was Thursday; they had plenty of time to sober up before the Cup finals began on Monday. So that meant three days to go hog wild, and one to nurse their hangovers. 

Needless to say, Sid didn’t remember much. And what he did remember made absolutely no sense. Flashing upon his subconscious were images of Flower dancing on a bar, Geno playing spin the bottle all-alone in a corner, and a re-enactment of William Tell featuring Letang, a dartboard, and a potato. 

Sid must’ve gone absolutely crazy, because he woke up curled up in a ball at the foot of his bed with his head resting on his pair of slippers. His hair felt shaggy and matted, his nose wet from drunken drool. ‘Shit,’ he thought in regretful amazement. ‘How did I get home last night?’ Quickly, he swiveled his head around the room, looking for any other passed-out Penguins. None were to be found, which he took to be a good sign. 

His boozy stomach sitting uneasily in his belly, Sid wobbled onto all fours and padded out of his bedroom. He stumbled a little bit, trying to account for an entirely new and tipsy center of gravity. Sighing, he nudged open his bedroom door and emerged into the hallway. 

He went first to the bathroom to assess the damage of last night’s depravity and to wash the sick Jack-Daniels-morning-breath taste out of his mouth. At this point, he was still crawling on all fours like a freakin’ animal. Positioning himself in front of the sink and the mirror and preparing for the worst, Sid tried to stand.

But he couldn’t. 

Sid cocked his head. He was sober enough to stand up, so what was so hard about it? Another effort sent him wheeling backwards, knocking his head on the door and yelping. He closed his eyes and wiped at his face, noticing a strangely long stubble on his cheeks. ‘Good lord,’ he thought. ‘Did I sleep all of Friday?’

Growing tired of this ridiculous charade, the Kid devised a plan to get himself in front of the mirror and find out what the hell was going on, once and for all. He took a running start towards the toilet and vaulted off of it and landed in the sink, scrambling to get a good grip on the slick porcelain.

Nothing could’ve prepared him for what he saw in the mirror. 

Staring back at him was the perplexed face of a border collie: thick, raven-black fur, with a brilliant white blaze extending from a splotch on its chest all the way to the middle of its forehead. The dog’s ears were perked up into little triangles, its mahogany eyes flashing with curiosity, and its head was tilted at an inquisitive angle. 

Sidney merely stared nonplussed at his reflection. Thoughts raced through his mind, but by far the most prominent was,

‘Oh, what the-’


	2. Sid Is Dog: Part I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Penguins' crisis management squad (Malkin and Fleury) tries to unravel the mystery of the dog in Sidney's apartment, only to come to a shocking realization.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was so much fun to write!
> 
> Canon errors: Sid does in fact have a dog. Not in my story, however. :)
> 
> Stay tuned! I have several long-term fics going right now, but I might move this one to the front burner for a while...

Marc-André Fleury, on the other hand, was feeling absolutely fine. In fact, he was fast asleep and snoring gently, in bed with his wife. Yeah, he’d gone out to celebrate with his teammates, but he had responsibilities. ‘Dad responsibilities,’ like doing the dishes and reading bedtime stories to his daughters. That was something he wouldn’t trade for all the Vezina, Prince of Wales, and Stanley trophies in the world. 

He dreamt of the game, fast approaching on Monday. Part of him wanted it to be as soon as possible, to get game 1 (arguably the most important) the hell out of the way; the other half never wanted it to come. He even squirmed and jolted in his sleep as he imagined the various Sharks took breakaway shots into the shelves.

And he stopped every single one, because he’s that freakin’ awesome.

That was, until an obnoxious ringing shrieked from the arena speakers, snagging the goaltender’s attention and allowing a puck to fly by his trapper. 

“Merde,” he hissed as he slid reluctantly out of his dream. Dawn was just beginning to break, and his clock read just after 5 in the morning. “This better be good,” he growled and reached for the incessantly ringing phone on his nightstand. 

The caller ID read ‘Sid.’ Flower groaned, wondering what sort of trouble the captain had gotten into after he had left the bar. 

“Allô?” He croaked into the receiver. Shaking sleep from his head, what originally sounded like static moulded itself into barks.

“C’est quoi, ça?” He murmured. Fleury regresses into his native French when confused, which was the perfect word to describe how he was feeling at this moment. The barking continued. 

The dog began to howl: long, drawn out bays that stung Fleury’s ears and rattled his brain. “C’est trop tôt pour ce bordel, Sidney!” The animal responded with hysterical barks. 

Thoroughly annoyed and overall fed up, Fleury sharply hung up the phone and slid it back onto his nightstand. Drowsiness overcame confusion and the goalie fell uneasily back to sleep.

~+~

Across town, Sidney was pawing furiously at his phone. He’d succeeded in knocking it off of his dresser (by running into it several times), but trying to dial it proved a challenge. He grew exasperated with trying to formulate words with his dog mouth. To him, he was speaking perfectly clear English. But to Siri, he was just a dog.

In order to unlock his phone, he had to slide his tongue around the screen to type the right numbers. After a few unsuccessful tries, he finally got in. However, the screen of his phone was now coated in drool. Thank the hockey gods for LifeProof cases?

Anyway, his first instinct was to call somebody. It didn’t even occur to him that nobody on his team would understand him (except maybe for Malkin… Russian was a weird language). But he called Fleury nonetheless, and we saw how that turned out.

“DAMMIT, FLOWER!” He howled at the phone, but it was too late. The goalie had hung up, and Crosby was alone and transfigured in his house. 

“Shit,” he barked. Sitting on his haunches, he snorted with contempt. Captain of the Eastern Conference Champions, and the minute he turns into a dog, everyone drops him like a hot potato? Rude.

You can’t teach an old dog new tricks, though, so he simply tried again, this time with Malkin. 

With each ring, Crosby’s canine heart leapt further into his throat. ‘What if he doesn’t answer?’ He whimpered. ‘What if I’m stuck like this for the rest of the Finals? Or FOREVER?!’ The Kid’s poofy tail went between his furry legs. 

Thankfully, Geno picked up. “Ehhhh,” he grumbled. Boy, did he sound groggy. 

“Hey! Geno!” The collie yelped with excitement. He was saved!

“Sid?” The forward grumbled. “You there?” 

Sidney focused every fibre of his canine brain and tried to form coherent words. “Help! Geno! Come! Here!” He barked deliberately with each syllable, in a futile attempt to communicate. To be completely honest, this was no different than trying to communicate with Geno in English. 

‘Maybe this was the wrong strategy,’ Sid contemplated. He cleared his throat and tried began to whine and cry. ‘Hit him right in the feels,’ was his rationale. A dog in pain? Who can ignore that?

Thankfully, not Evgeni Malkin. 

~+~

‘That was weird as hell,’ Geno thought. A call in the middle of the night from the captain was strange enough, but to have a dog on the other end put this into the “downright perplexing” category.

So perplexing, in fact, that he had half a mind to call another Pen else and get his advice. ‘I mean, what if the dog is hurt? Or Sid, too?’ Well, that did it. Geno whipped his phone out and began to dial Flower. 

‘He’s a goalie,’ Malkin rationalized as the phone rang. ‘It’s his job to handle tough scenarios.’ However, Flower was in no mood to be trifled with. Malkin didn’t even get a word in before the goaltender started chewing his head off. 

“I swear to God, Geno,” he hissed under his breath. “There better be a damn good reason for this call!”

“You get weird call from Sid?” Geno responded, bright as ever. 

“Wha’? Uh, yeah, a few minutes ago.”

“It was just dog barking?”

“Yeah, you got that too?”

“Yes. But Sid not have dog.”

Silence over at the other end.

“We should go make sure he okay,” Malkin continued.

“ ‘We?’ “ 

“Yes, you meet me at Sid’s house.”

There was a soft thunk as Fleury dropped his head to his pillow in exasperation.

“Why do we both have to go, man?” Don’t mistake Fleury’s irritation for carelessness regarding his teammates; he was just really freakin’ tired. 

“What if Sid is hurt?” Geno asked in a quivering voice. He paused. “What if the DOG is hurt?!”

A few moments hung in the air, crackling with cellular static. Then there was a pointed sigh as Marc-André got out of bed. 

“Alright, Geno. Just let me get some pants on.”

 

~+~

Chez Crosby, things hadn’t gotten much better. The dog had screwed its eyes shut as hard as possible and flung them open, hoping to return back to his hockey player body. To his dismay, he was still a collie. 

Optimism crept its way through his body. Of all the dogs to turn into, a border collie isn’t that bad. He could’ve been turned into one of them creepy-ass hairless Chinese crested things. 

But then realism made his blood turn to raspberry slush. If he didn’t turn back in time for the Cup finals… If he never turned back… Dogs can’t skate. That is a scientific fact. 

Without warning, he heard metal clinking on metal in the direction of his front door. Instincts that he didn’t have as a human kicked in and he barked like a madman (mad-dog?) and sprinted to the door. The doorknob was jiggling. 

“Great,” Sid whimpered. “Turned into a dog and robbed on the same day. Seriously, someone’s got it out for me.”

Turns out he was wrong, though, because when he tackled his attacker, he landed on top of Evgeni Malkin. 

Fleury tugged at the dog’s scruff to pull him off his teammate. Geno showered the dog with kisses, and the animal cringed and shied away. 

“Sid?” Flower called. Remembering to take his shoes off, he began to walk around the house and disappeared into his captain’s bedroom, living room, bathroom, kitchen, everywhere. No sign of the guy anywhere. Just to be sure, he did another round, looking in all the closets, in the bathtub, under the rugs. All the while, Malkin was trying to embrace the fluffy being in front of him, wondering why the dog wasn’t licking his face like every other one.

“Geno,” Marc said as he reappeared. There was fear at the edge of his voice. “I can’t find him. He’s not here.” Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. “I’m gonna call him again, just to be sure.”

Well, the phone was ringing, sure enough. But it was sitting in the middle of the bathroom floor, so Crosby obviously didn’t answer. He was too busy being pet by his alternate captain, fur on end.

“Sid?” Fleury yelled. “You here?” Pause. The dog began to dance around and bark uncontrollably. Louder, “SIDNEY!” Still nothing, but the dog was still going crazy. The two ignored it. “CROSBY, WHERE ARE YOU?!” Sidney nuzzled Malkin’s feet, then looked deeply into his eyes. 

“I. AM. SIDNEY.” He barked out. “I. AM. A. DOG.” Fleury was busy running around the house. But Malkin looked at the animal’s eyes and tilted his head. ‘Say,’ his mind narrated. ‘Sid kind of has the same eyes as this doggy.’ 

And it clicked. The phone call. The missing centreman. The unexplained dog. All the pieces fit, into one royally messed up puzzle. 

“Flower?” Geno called, not taking his eyes off the dog. It licked its muzzle and its eyes bore into the man’s, as though egging on his teammate’s thinking process. 

Fleury came running into the foyer, almost falling down in the process. “What?” he demanded, out of breath. “Did you find him?”

“I think,” Malkin said slowly. Pausing, he cursed in Russian, since he knew the goalie wouldn’t believe him. Somehow, he found the courage to speak up. “Sid is dog.”

Fleury took a moment and looked dumbfoundedly at his forward. Then he snorted in complete disbelief. This ridiculous theory was simply beyond words. 

“Dude, are you still drunk from last night or something?” Geno hadn’t drank that much, and neither had he. The stoic and forceful look on Malkin’s face bore a pit into the netminder’s stomach. He chuckled for a couple beats, and when Malkin refused to contribute, he full-on doubled over in a fit of uncomfortable giggles. 

‘Darn,’ Malkin thought. ‘He doesn’t believe me. How the hell am I gonna convince him?’ He snapped when an idea came into his mind: a way to convince the skeptical netminder. 

“Hey, doggy.” The collie’s eyes locked onto the hockeyer’s. “What is your name?” The dog seemed almost to smile, as though Evgeni had solved some kind of puzzle. 

He gave four crisp barks. “Sid-Ney Cros-By.” Fleury just furrowed his brows. 

“Doggy,” Malkin continued, ignoring the goalie’s input. This HAD to work. “What is his name?”

Five barks. “Marc-And-Ré Fleur-y.” He shifted his weight to one fit and put his hand to his chin. ‘Keep it up, Sid,’ Geno willed. ‘We’ll get you out of here.’

“What is my name?”

“Ev-Gen-I Mal-Kin.” Five barks, clear as the fur on his back. Flower and Geno exchanged glances. Suddenly, the dog perked its ears up and bolted into the bedroom. Evgeni gave Marc a smug smile, which he scrunched his face up at. ‘Not entirely convinced, eh?’ he thought. 

The dog walked around the corner wearing a sweater. Crosby’s sweater, his head poking through with the arms dangling uselessly at the sides. The color drained from Flower’s face almost instantaneously and he whipped his head around to stare at Geno.

‘I’ve got ‘em now,’ thought both the dog and the forward simultaneously and triumphantly. 

Flower lowered his head into his hands for a moment, then looked to the dog, to Malkin, and back to the dog. He cursed in French.

“Sid is dog,” he breathed as though not entirely convinced. But all three knew that he was. The collie wagged his tail and barked heartily. He even padded forward to give his teammate a couple thankful licks on his tightly closed fist. 

Flower just stood there. He just stood there as his canine captain sat wagging his tail and yipping with excitement while his other teammate pet the animal. 

Now he had seen everything. He snapped a picture of Malkin and Crosby rolling around playfully together, then went back to standing in a cloud of confused comprehension. 

This was messed up. Like, textbook.

“The hell are we gonna do?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave me a comment with feedback and suggestions! I have breeds picked out for the rest of the stars, but I'd love to hear your input!


	3. Sid Is Dog: Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things don't get much better for the Penguins. But hey, Matt Murray is there!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little late because I started my new job and have been working the early morning shift, so I'm napping during my typical writing time. But I played with a dog named Geno and a dog named Kaner today, so I'm good.
> 
> Obviously, the rest of what follows is non-canon, since Sidney Crosby wasn't a dog during the first game of the SCFs, but I'll try to keep scores and points the same.
> 
> Thanks a ton for reading!

“Who is good boy?” Geno cooed at the collie, who danced around his human friend. “Who is good boy?”

“Geno, for God’s sake,” Fleury scolded with exasperation. “That’s your best friend! A grown man!” The centreman stood up sheepishly, but not before he gave one final belly rub to Sid. For a few moments, all three Penguins loitered and exchanged various glances. After a while, Sid yipped. 

“Okay,” the goalie announced, clapping his hands. “Step one. We need to tell someone about this.” He whipped out his phone and began scrolling through the contacts list. 

“Coach Sullivan?” Malkin suggested. 

Fleury pursed his lips. That was his first thought, but it grew sour in the back of his mind. ‘When a kid breaks a vase,’ he thought to himself. ‘He doesn’t immediately go get his parents. No, he goes and gets his siblings. To come up with a plan. Like an alibi.’ 

He started a group chat with Letang, Kessel, and Murray. 

Flower: Hey guys, sorry to disturb you on your no-doubt hungover day off, but I really need your help

Murray: I got your back, that’s my job lol

Kessel: what is it? I hope Vero and the kids are alright

Flower: They’re fine, it’s Sid

Letang: what’s wrong? He sick or something?

Flower: Umm, I guess you could say that?

Kessel: okay…? Do you need us to come over?

Flower: Yeah, could you? Sid’s kinda messed up, you’ll see when you get here

Murray: I can be at Sid’s place in 20 mins

Letang: it might take me a while to get ready, unless you need me right away

Kessel: ^^ same

Flower: no problem, just come as fast as you can. See y’all soon

He clicked his phone off and jammed it back in his pocket. Thankfully, Malkin had found the self-control to resist jumping on the admittedly fluffy dog and showering it with kisses. Instead, they sat calmly next to each other on the hardwood floor. It was just like any other day on the bench at the rink, except for the obvious: they weren’t wearing pads. 

Sid began to whine. His bushy black tail swung across the floor in deliberate sweeps. Then he gave a sharp bark, perking his ears up. Malkin looked to the canine Canadian, then to his human teammate, then back to the dog. 

“What does he want?” Malkin wondered aloud. 

Fleury shrugged and attempted in vain to read the dog’s deep brown eyes. “No idea.”

“You have kids,” Malkin prodded. “What do they want when they cry?”

The goaltender nodded approval. “Good idea,” he said. “Usually because they’re hungry.” 

Evgeni rocketed to his feet. “Alright! We have to feed Sid!” With the dog following closely at his heels, he made his way into the kitchen. 

Marc-André paused, stumped. “What are we going to feed him? It’s not like Sid has a bunch of dog food laying around.”

Leave it to Sid’s best friend to have a plan figured out. “Sid loves pizza,” he called over his shoulder, producing a giant cardboard box from the fridge. The dog instantly went crazy, jumping up and down and barking with excitement. Geno was loving the attention. “You want pizza, good boy?” He tore free a slice and held it just above Sid’s snout. The collie stared at it with the same intensity that Human Sid stares at the puck before it drops. In one lightning fast snap, the animal snatched the pizza from Geno’s hands and devoured the entire slice in three humongous bites. 

“Well,” Flower sighed. “That’s definitely Sid.” He grimaced as he watched the dog lick sauce and grease from his alternate’s fingers. ‘Murray better hurry his ass up,’ he thought. ‘I don’t know how much more of this I can take.’

And he was starting to feel funny. Not so hot. Maybe it was from the partying, but he wasn’t hungover and he didn’t have that much to drink to begin with. He brushed it off as nerves: understandable, right? 

“Flower,” Malkin prodded. “He is crying again.” And the centreman was right. Now the collie was shifting nervously from paw to paw, ears flattened against his silky head. “What to do now?”

The netminder furrowed his brows. Damned if he knew what to do! ‘It’s a dog,’ he though. ‘How complicated can they be? You feed ‘em, you walk ‘em-‘ He snapped his fingers in triumph. 

“Got it,” he beamed. “He needs to go out.” He clapped his hands to lead the collie to the back door. Sidney’s tongue was lolling out of his open, panting mouth. When Fleury opened the sliding door to the backyard, Crosby bounded out, tail high with ecstasy. But when he lifted his leg against a tree, Fleury quickly turned away. That was his captain, for God’s sake. 

In his back pocket, Flower’s phone buzzed. Checking it, he noticed that Murray had texted him. 

Murray: I’m almost here, wanna tell me what this is all about?

Marc-André had to choose his words carefully. To be honest, he didn’t expect Murray to be able to solve this crisis. He just wanted somebody to be with when management put them in the doghouse. (Heh heh, doghouse.)

The sliding door creaked when Geno let the collie back in, anointing him with a hearty pat on the head and some Russian praise. 

Flower: If I told you, you’d drive back home in an instant

Murray: crap, is it contagious or something??

Flower: Nononono, just please trust me and get over here

Murray: you got it Flower

Words bounced back and forth in the goaltender’s busied mind. ‘Should I have told him about Sid?’ Then, ‘Nah, I was right. He would’ve thought we’d all gone crazy and went right back home.’

As if on cue, Sid’s doorbell rang. Sidney himself exploded with barks, streaking to the front door but struggling with his slippery (and slightly, just slightly more hairy) feet. Geno, who was squatting next to the dog and petting its head, fell backwards onto his butt from the sudden noise. 

Flower, on the other hand, walked calmly up to the door. Since he’d sent that text, he’d essentially come up with a script for the upcoming difficult conversations. It went something like this:

“Hey, guys. Thanks for coming. Look, what I’m about to say is really, seriously messed up. But please, hear me out, because Sid needs our help.”

Instead, when the two goalies’ eyes met, Fleury forgot everything he was supposed to say. Everything was wiped from his mind and he said the first thing that popped into it. 

Little Murray stared, one eyebrow raised, at his teammate, then the dog (who, incidentally yet unbeknownst, was also his teammate). 

“Sid turned into a dog,” Marc-André blurted. 

Murray gawked. 

Sid barked. 

And, over Flower’s shoulder, Geno waved.


	4. Russell Your Jimmies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mysterious curse claims its next victim!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE PENGUINS WON THE CUP! WOOHOO!
> 
> Also, I got a tumblr. I am open to, and actively requesting, prompts for my AO3 account. See http://yeahscienceao3.tumblr.com for more details! 
> 
> Thanks!

Matt didn’t say anything for a while. He was torn: wanting to appear mature in the eyes of his three most distinguished teammates, even if one was a dog, yet still completely unhinged by the situation.

 

Sidney padded forward and stood directly in front of the goalie, nudging his hand with his muzzle. Murray gave him a quick pat on the nose and turned back to the humans. Geno had followed the dog over to the front door and was now standing next to Fleury.

 

“Well,” Murray breathed. “Okay.”

 

Flower was more unsettled by his response than anything else that had happened that day. Shouldn’t he be freaking out?, the veteran goalie thought.

 

Murray just stood his ground, face blank, looking at the collie that sat in front of him. Maybe he was in denial, but part of him believed that this was just another ridiculous prank by the older teammates. Then again, the dog’s eyes were exactly the same colour as Sid’s…

 

“ ‘Okay?’ ” Flower gaped. “That’s it? We just told you that your captain turned into a dog, and that’s what you come up with?”

 

Murray shrugged, but nerves fired up all across his body. This was beginning to feel less and less like a prank.

 

“We need your help,” Geno spoke, scratching Sid behind the ear. “We need to turn Sid back into Sid.” He was so endearingly matter-of-fact.

 

“Did you call Sully?” Matt asked. That’s the first thing he would have done.

 

“No!” Flower exclaimed. “What would he think? His team goes out and gets wasted after winning the Prince of Wales trophy, then calls the next day to say that his star player has mysteriously turned into a dog? No, Murr, we gotta deal with this on our own.” He paused. “Even though we have absolutely no idea what to do.”

 

“Murr, how about we go to pet store and get stuff for Sid?” Geno suggested. Sid licked his hand appreciatively.

 

“How long do you think he’s gonna be like this?” Murray responded, but nobody had the guts to answer. As of right now, it looked like Sid would be a dog indefinitely.

 

Flower sighed. “Good idea, Geno. Go pick up some dog stuff at Petco or something.” Then he turned and looked to Sid, whose panting plastered a dopey smile across his muzzle. “Would you like that?” Flower soon remembered himself and gave his head a quick shake and cleared his throat. _Keep it together, man,_ he willed himself. _That’s Sid._

 

Geno walked back into the house and grabbed his keys off the kitchen counter. He threw his arm around Matt and led him to the car. Seconds later, the two were turning off the street and Flower was left alone with his canine captain.

 

“Hey,” Marc-André nodded. Sid appeared to nod back. “Do you, uh, know what happened?”

 

Sid barked a single syllable. The goalie went out on a limb and guessed that meant ‘no.’ Well, he had no idea either. So he grabbed a beer from the fridge and flopped down on the couch, channel surfing with Sid resting his muzzle on his shoes.

 

~+~

 

Across town, Geno and the backup goalie were pulling into the Petco parking lot.

 

“Do you have shopping list?” Geno questioned.

 

“Um, no?” Murray said as he popped open the door and hopped out of the car. “We literally decided to come here, like, ten minutes ago.”

 

Thankfully, the store wasn’t too crowded. Murr didn’t feel like signing autographs or explaining why he and Geno were loading up on pet care supplies. Mostly because he didn’t have a plausible answer.

 

“First things first,” he sighed. “Pets need food, right?”

 

“I gave Sid some pizza this morning,” Geno giggled. Murray could only sigh as he grabbed a cart and pulled the forward towards the dog food aisle.

 

He mumbled to himself. “Okay, so he’s a big dog, athletic, 28 human years divided by 7 human years in a dog year, he’s 4…” Eventually, he gave up and grabbed some Purina dog food: chicken and rice flavour. Sidney could deal with it.

 

When Murray turned back around, he noticed, with horror, that he was alone. _Oh crap, where did Malkin get off too?_

 

Not wanting to draw attention, Matt slunk inconspicuously through the aisles. Geno was nowhere to be found. Fear worked its way into the fibres of his heart. _What if Evgeni Malkin had turned into a dog as well?!_

 

Thankfully, that fear was not realized. Geno was standing in the toy aisle, shopping for what he deemed was a “present for Sid.” Murray rolled his eyes but still indulged the Russian when he threw a plastic shark squeaky toy into the cart. Apparently, it was “funny” and “good luck for Stanley Cup.”

 

“Dogs need water bowls,” Geno mentioned, picking up two silver dishes as he followed Matt through the store. The goalie nodded in agreement. A couple feet later, the bright yellow cover of “Dogs for Dummies” caught his eye. It seemed like a good investment, so he handed it to Geno. 71 began to thumb through it.

 

Throughout the store, they picked up several other goods. A brush, treats, a collar, and a leash. Geno saw a doggy t-shirt designed to look like Crosby’s jersey and insisted that they buy it. Murray saw it as a consolation gift for the poor guy and tossed it in the cart.

 

By the end of their shopping spree, they had spent nearly $150 on pet supplies. The girl at the checkout was very interested in who this was all for.

 

“Ooh,” she cooed. “Are you gonna be gettin’ a dog sometime soon?” She grinned, scanning the items and confirming her deduction.

 

“Yes, we just got dog,” Geno replied, beaming. Murray whipped his head and shot the man a stern glance that said ‘stop talking.’

 

Geno didn’t, though.

 

“What’s his name?” The girl squealed.

 

“His name Sid!” Geno squealed back. Murray kicked his teammate in the back of the leg in an effort to shut him up. Malkin seemed to get the message and went back to swiping his credit card. The two Penguins each grabbed two bulging plastic bags and walked back to the car.

 

I hope Sidney’s alright, Murray worried to himself.

 

~+~

 

Turns out, Sidney was the least of their worries.

 

Fleury was feeling sicker and sicker. (Sick as a dog?) He felt like he was running a fever, and cold sweat began to bed along his hairline. Sid must’ve sensed that something was wrong, because he took to whining and set his muzzle on his goaltender’s knees.

 

Head pounding, Fleury flumped back on the couch and closed his eyes. Even behind the blackness of his eyelids, the world seemed to swim around him. Sidney jumped up on the couch and began to poke at his teammate with his paw.

 

Flower moaned and buried his face into a pillow. The past twenty-four hours had simply been too much. Winning the Eastern Conference Championship, going to the bars with the team, waking up with Sidney Crosby as a collie.

 

He still didn’t have a clue why. What had they done last night that meant their star captain turning into a dog? Crap like that doesn’t just happen.

 

Regardless, Marc-André still felt awful. Thinking a tall glass of ice water would help, he stood up.

 

And promptly collapsed.

 

~+~

 

“Flower! Sid!” Murray called from the front door. He and Geno had just gotten back from the store. The goalie furrowed his brow when the collie didn’t come barreling through the hallway to greet them. Instead, he heard whining coming from the living room.

 

Geno set down his shopping bags and went running to check on the dog.

 

Well, now it was ‘dogs.’

 

Sidney Collie was still there. But he was standing over a tiny Jack Russell terrier. The other dog was all white, but with caramel coloured ears. He was laying on his side, tiny chest rising and falling with each miniscule breath.

 

Whatever this was, it had gotten Flower too.


End file.
